What I Would Say
by daphrose
Summary: Bree fingered the worn corner of her Bible and sighed wistfully. She put the pencil down on the paper to complete her letter. A tear slipped down her cheek as she signed her name. "I miss you," she murmured. (Based on the song "The Words I Would Say" by Sidewalk Prophets. One-shot.)


**This is a Christian story, so if that 'offends' you or whatever, you don't have to read it. If you have any questions, feel free to PM me. I would recommend listening to "The Words I Would Say" by Sidewalk Prophets while you read this. I don't own Lab Rats or that song.**

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><p><strong>* * * What I Would Say * * *<strong>

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><p>Bree stared up at the ceiling. An odd feeling had settled in the pit of her stomach, and it was preventing her from falling asleep again. She turned on her side and squeezed her eyes shut, but it did no good.<p>

There was only one thing on Bree's mind. She had heard the news earlier that week, and her heart had been aching ever since. The tragic thoughts pounded against her skull and rendered her incapable of sleep.

_3:02. _The flashing red lights seemed to mock Bree. She groaned softly and sat up. She glanced at the sleeping figure beside her. Aaron, her husband, was snoring quietly. Bree gave a gentle smile as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

The bionic grabbed a thick book off of her nightstand and went out the door quietly. Bree's feet padded on the hardwood floor as she tip-toed down the hall. She passed the twins' room and glanced in for just a moment. Vance and Lily were sound asleep, just like they should be.

Bree made her way down the stairs and entered the kitchen. She put her book on the table and walked to the fridge to get a glass of milk. Once she had that, she reached for a sheet of paper and a pen. She wanted to do this the old-fashioned way.

The woman sat down at the table. She flipped open the book. "Pastor Dan just talked about this the other week," she mumbled as she rubbed her eyes. "Oh, here it is."

The large numbers that said _13 _jumped out from the page. Bree smiled a bit before beginning to read the famous 'love chapter' from 1 Corinthians. "'Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.'" Something about reading those verses out loud made Bree feel better.

After reading the chapter over and over again, Bree folded her hands. "Lord," she began, "help me to do this. Give me _Your _words. Help me say what he needs to hear."

With a sigh, Bree picked up her pencil. She pressed the lead tip to the top line on the paper. With shaky fingers, she began.

_Dear Chase,_

Bree stared at the line alone for a full five minutes. She was doing this. She was going to talk to her brother. Perhaps it wasn't in person, but it was better than anything they had done in the past five years.

_I know it's been a long time. A REALLY long time. But I thought it was time to send you something. Maybe you won't even look at this . . . I don't know. But it was worth a shot._

_ I heard about Isabel. I'm sure you've heard the words 'I'm sorry' a lot lately. But . . . well, I am sorry. I'm sure it's hard on you. I can't even imagine. How is Casey holding up? And you? You've always been brave, but surely this is very difficult._

_ The whole reason I'm writing this is . . . well, I don't know, really. I wanted to comfort you, and I'm not sure if I have the courage to say it out loud to you. Maybe I'm scared. Last time someone died, you yelled at me constantly. I still have the same thing to say now as I did back then: God has a plan. I know you don't believe me, but it's true._

Bree looked up and bit back the tears. Her brother's harsh words still rung in her ears. Attending her father's funeral had been hard enough, but having her brother bash her faith and blame her for everything made it a lot worse. Forgiveness had not been easy. Bree told herself that Chase was misguided, but it didn't always help.

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><p><em>"Explain your loving God now, Bree! Mr. Davenport is dead and you're saying that it's all part of some 'bigger plan'? Right."<em>

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><p>"Oh Chase," Bree mumbled. "If only you knew."<p>

_I haven't been able to sleep at all tonight. I've been thinking about you constantly. I know that you don't believe God. I know that you resent me because I do. But . . . can I at least try to comfort you?_

_ God loves you, Chase. And I know you don't believe that. But He's got you. Sometimes we have to go through trials. Life isn't easy. Mr. Davenport was close to me too, and I still miss him. But I don't blame God for it. People die. I know that I'll see Mr. Davenport again. I know because of the things he told me._

_ This wedge that's been driven between us is breaking my heart. I want you to know that, no matter what happens, I will always love you. Call me dumb, call me an idiot, call me a foolish Bible-thumper, whatever you want. I will love you anyway._

_ I don't know why Isabel died. I don't know why your unborn daughter had to die with her. Maybe God is trying to tell you something. Isabel believed in Him. She always hoped that someday you would come around too._

_ I know that's another reason you hate me. You think that I 'caused' your wife to become a Christian. No, Chase, it wasn't me. It could never be me. It was God. Isabel would email me sometimes and ask for prayers for you. I know that you didn't ever let her talk about her faith. It made her sad that you wouldn't even listen._

_ When Aaron first took me to church, I thought they were all crazy too. But there's so much more to this. So much peace. God does love us. A lot. He loved us enough to die for us. Do some research on the crucifixion, Chase. I know you love research. It wasn't an easy thing to go through. It was humiliating and painful. Jesus did it for US. He died for US. I don't know a better example of love._

_ There was a song I heard once, and the lyrics really struck me. The song is kind of old, but it's still relevant to me. Chase, there are some things I need to say:_

_ Be strong in the Lord and never give up hope. You're gonna do great things, I already know! God's got His hand on you, so don't live life in fear. Forgive and forget but don't forget why you're here. Take your time and pray, and thank God for each day. His love will find a way._

_ There are some (okay, a lot) of things in there that I know you don't believe. I want to say something: I have been praying since I accepted Christ that you would too. I was so happy when Adam did. I figured you would be hard to persuade . . . but I didn't expect you to disown me._

_ Do you resent me? Do you hate me? It's been five years since Mr. Davenport's funeral. I haven't seen you at all since then._

_ I know you must be in a lot of pain right now. I know. I mean, I can't say I know exactly what you're going through, but I know it has to hurt. Are you blaming God again? I wouldn't be surprised. Although, how can you blame Him if you don't believe in Him?_

_ I've been praying that God would give me the right words to say here. It's hard! I can't promise to take away your pain. Even as a Christian, I don't live without pain. God never said that life would be easy, but He said that it would be worth it._

_ I don't know what's going through your mind right now, or where you are in your walk with God. As far as I know, you haven't started. Maybe you won't. But I am praying for you. That probably means nothing to you. Fine. But it means something to me._

_ It means I still love you. Even if you think I'm crazy, I love you. Even if you've disowned me, I love you. Even if you hate me, I love you. But you could never really hate me, right?_

_ God will get you through this. I don't how, but I know that He will. I'm praying that He'll use me somehow. I might never know if what I said meant anything to you. I might never talk to you again. But hopefully I made you realize something. Anything._

_ This letter is getting long, and my hand is tired. These were all things I needed to say. I'm sorry that you lost Isabel. I hope that you and Casey are doing okay. I love you and miss you very much. God bless._

_~ Bree Allison Davenport Shultz_

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><p>The full name was written out in beautiful penmanship. The 'z' at the end curled upward into a lovely spiral. None of that was surprising.<p>

His hands were shaky. He didn't know why. He had come very close to throwing out the letter. He had already known what would be inside, but he read it anyway. The words didn't surprise him.

Her passion was worthy of respect, that was for sure. But he didn't like hearing the dogma she attempted to spew at him. He planned to skim the letter. For some reason, however, he read it, and he read it carefully. Something was stirring in the pit of his stomach; something he couldn't explain.

Chase sighed and buried his face in his hands. The table in front of him was covered in condolence cards and cookie crumbs. He hadn't found the energy needed to clean the house. That was _her _job.

Here he was, Chase Davenport, president of a multi-million dollar tech company, successful business man, and smartest person on the planet, collapsed in an old kitchen chair with nothing but his jumbled thoughts. The letter from the sister he hadn't spoken to in years hung limply from his hands until it fell from his fingers altogether.

_ Do you resent me? Do you hate me?_

_ But you could never really hate me, right?_

_ No, I guess I don't_, Chase thought. _Bree . . . I just don't agree with you_.

Chase thought back to Mr. Davenport's funeral. It had been such a shock. Losing their beloved father-figure and trainer had hurt . . . a lot. Bree had said that was it a part of God's plan. Chase just scoffed at her. Yet, she had cried to. She believed that it was God's plan, but she still cried.

_God never said that life would be easy, but he said it would be worth it._

"Daddy?" a little boy mumbled as he approached his father. Gently the boy placed his hand on Chase's knee. "Are you okay?"

Chase sighed. "No, Casey, I'm not," he said quietly.

"What do you have there?" the seven-year-old asked, pointing to the piece of paper that Chase had picked up yet again.

"A letter from your aunt."

"Auntie Bree? We never see her."

"I know, kiddo."

"Why? Do you not like Auntie Bree?"

"No, I just don't like what she believes."

"Why should that change anything?"

"Because," Chase said. He tried to think of how to end that sentence. Because . . . why? "Because she thinks things that I don't think are true. And she feels like I shouldbelieve them too."

"Okay," Casey said. "But you didn't really answer the question. You taught me a long time ago that no one will think exactly the same thing."

"I know, but . . . she just doesn't . . . I don't like the way she feels like she needs to 'convert' me all the time. We just don't get along anymore, okay? The simplest solution is that we don't talk to each other at all."

For a few seconds everything was silent. Chase snuck a peek at his son and was surprised at his expression. Casey had his hands on his hips and his lips were quivering as he glared at his father. "How dare you!" he shouted. "I wouldn't have let _anything _come between me and Kylia! I would've loved her no matter what! Even if she thought she was a purple cow, I would've loved her!"

Chase watched in astonishment as large tears started rolling down Casey's cheeks. He picked up his son and placed him in his lap. The young boy buried his face in Chase's shirt.

"Shh, it's okay," Chase mumbled as he gently kissed the top of Casey's head.

"I wanted a sister more than anything!" Casey hiccupped. "You've got one, but you don't even love her! Why not, Daddy? Don't you know how lucky you are?"

_ See what your God has done, Bree? My son wanted a sister. He almost had one, too. Now his mom _and _his would-be sister are gone. How can you justify this?_

But Chase knew he was twisting this around. It wasn't the point. Casey was talking about Chase's relationship with his sister. It was a very, _very _broken relationship. Whose fault was that?

_Mine_, his brain answered slowly. He hated to admit it, but that was the truth. _It's my fault that I haven't talked to Bree in five years. Mine. Me. This was all me._

Then he had to deal with the fact that Bree was making an effort. In a way, that made Chase feel even worse. She was trying to be the bigger person here. And even if Chase didn't agree with what she believed, she was just trying to help.

Casey's sobs had quieted a bit. Chase picked up his son and stood up. "Let's get you to bed, okay?" he whispered. Casey nodded, his head drooping with exhaustion.

After Chase had put his son to bed, he returned to the mess they called a kitchen. He picked up Bree's letter again, wondering what to do with it. Just throw it out? No, he couldn't do that. Instead he sat down, reading over her words for the fifth time that evening.

Success, fame, bionics, wealth – none of those had helped to save his wife. None of it. Bree didn't have the best life, and Chase knew it. Her husband had lost his job more than once, and Bree worked hard to make ends meet. Yet Chase had never heard her complain, or even ask for anything from the rest of the family.

For some reason, even if Bree had struggled in her life, she was still happy. No, it was something beyond happiness. Joy, perhaps? That's what Bree claimed it was.

_Love_.

_There's that too_.

The point was that Bree had something Chase lacked. Her faith was still foreign to him. It didn't make much sense at all. But it seemed to do something for Bree. Every time Chase tried to come up with a scientific explanation, he fell flat.

Bree had unconditional love, something Chase had seen very little of in his life. Most people went around expecting good things in return for their efforts, but Bree never expected anything back.

_Even if you hate me, I love you._

Chase wasn't ready to become a 'believer' or whatever it was, not by a long shot. Still, maybe he should look into this more. He couldn't help but think that Bree held answers to questions he had been asking for a long time.

Slowly, cautiously, almost like something was going to jump out and attack him at any moment, Chase reached for the phone. His fingers hadn't stopped shaking since he had read Bree's letter, but now they were nearly impossible to control. Chase punched in a sequence of numbers and held the phone to his ear.

One ring. Two rings. Three.

_Click_.

"Hello?"

"Hi . . . Bree. It's Chase."


End file.
